One More Portrait
by CorneliaAmethyst
Summary: Dean and Luna spend a lot of time together, at Shell Cottage, their realtionship blossoms and Dean doesn't find Luna as odd as he used to...
1. Chapter 1

This is a story of Dean and Luna's evovling relationship in Deathly Hallows - so, spoilers. I don't own Dean, Luna, Harry, Ron, Hermione or Mrs. Figg. OK? JK Rowling does.

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"Ron! Stay still!" I hissed in the dark. I was trying to free Ron using a rusty old nail – not easy when he's struggling and calling Hermione's name in desperation. I had to sympathise slightly. Hermione's screams were off putting and the darkness of the rank cellar wasn't helping. "I can't see a thing!"

"Wait! My pocket, Luna! There's a Deluminator and it's full of light!" I scrabbled around and found the strange object. I saw Ron motion in the dark to click it. I did, and some small blue spheres floated to the top of the cellar, bathing us in its glow. I saw Ron, red in the face, Harry, his glasses askew, a goblin, the pale Ollivander and…

"Hello Dean!" I beamed. Dean had grown since I last saw him – as did his hair. It was longer, and dreadlocked, but his face, covered in a mixture of purple bruises and crimson blood. I'd continued slashing at the ropes that bound Ron. He muttered thanks, but jumped up and responded to Hermione's screams of pain.

I cut Harry's ropes open, and crawled across the floor to where Dean was crumpled up in silence. I smiled wanly at him and roughly sliced his ropes and lay the nail down by the water jug, again.

"Thanks Luna," he rasped, finding my hand and patting it in appreciation. He stood up, shivering, joining Ron in looking for a way out. I stood up and offered Dean one of the few blankets that were scattered around. He accepted with another nod, a hoarse "thanks," and a small flicker of a smile.

Ron's face was a violent shade of fuchsia. I could tell he was trying to disapparate, and he didn't even have a wand. "Ron!" I half-shouted, concerned. "There's no way out of here. We've tried everything, haven't we, Mr. Ollivander?"

A low moan came from the old man, with his sunken face, but only I heard it, as it was drowned out by an elongated scream coming from Hermione and Ron's yell of frustration of not being able to see her.

"Crucio!"

Another never-ending scream and Ron was sobbing, and trying to punch the wall, his knuckles bleeding.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own JK Rowling's characters or anything like that, 'kay?

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Harry scrabbled in his pouch and bought out a shard of mirror.

"Help us! We're in the cellar of the Malfoy Manor, help us!"

I wandered over to where Harry was crouched over the fragment of glass and peered curiously. I swiped my finger over the sharp edge, not caring about being cut. I'd been doing my best to block out Bellatrix's stinging voice and Hermione's shrieking, the result of her torture. Harry moved swiftly and whispered in the goblin's ear, leaving me with the mirror. A quivering voice spoke behind the door.

"Stand back! Line back up against the wall. Don't try anything, or I'll kill you!"

The voice didn't sound particularly threatening, we all did as we were told. Ron clicked his Deluminator and the comforting light was sucked back in. Harry, Ron and Griphook scrambled back, and Dean and I helped the frail Ollivander up. Ollivander patted our shoulders and slumped against the wall.

The clicked open and I shivered, partly with fear – and partly with cold. Dean must have seen out of the corner of his eyes, and we both huddled inside the blanket. It didn't offer much warmth, but it oozed comfort. A boy entered the damp cellar, with his pallid, pinched face tried to emulate his father's fierce expression, but failed, as I could see him shake as he grabbed Griphook by the arm and dragged the flailing goblin out, still facing us. He raised his eyebrows at Dean and myself and left.

_Crack!_

I clutched at Dean's arm. I could just make out the whites of his eyes in the gloom, they seemed to protrude. Thankfully, in another, quieter click, the room was full of swirling periwinkle light.

Ron began to shout but I saw Harry hit him, I recognised a house elf standing solitary in the middle of the grey cellar. He quivered a greeting to Harry, and I managed to catch the house elf's name – Dobby. Harry started asking questions, and I saw the house elf nod. Dobby could disapparate in and out of the cellar and take people with him! Harry and Ron gave instructions, to take Mr. Ollivander, Dean and I to Ron's brother's house.

The house elf pattered over and held Ollivander's hand. Neither Dean nor I moved.

"Harry, let us help you!" I pleaded.

"We can't leave you here!" said Dean bravely.

"Go, both of you! We'll meet you at Bill and Fleur's, go!"

We shrugged off the blanket and caught hold of Dobby's long fingers. In an instant, we fell in a garden, and the strong smell of salt tingling in out noses.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own anything of the Harry Potter universe yada yada yada... well I do own some books and DVDs but JK Rowling owns the rest, y'here?

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"Bill! Zere eez sometheek in zee garden!" Fleur had her head poking round her front door, silvery blonde hair a cascading waterfall. "Luna!" she called "Why are you 'ere?"

I managed to gabble out some form of explanation, introducing Dean and Mr. Ollivander, and watching Dobby disappear with a crack. Bill staggered out, snaking his arm around Fleur's waist.

"Why are you all still out here? Come out of the cold!" he smiled calmly.

Dean and me helped up the whimpering Mr. Ollivander to his feet, and escorted him inside. The settled him down on a big squashy armchair as Fleur bustled in, making 3 cups of sugary hot tea. I took a cup, and Dean took two, and placed on in Mr. Ollivander's shaking hands, who thanked him with a curt nod. Dean settled back on the floor next to me. Fleur entered the room again, this time with a hovering plate of biscuits.

"Luna, Dean! Why aren't you on zee sofa? We don't theenk you should seet on zee floor!" The plate of biscuits landed with a clatter on the small coffee table and we relocated to the soft sofa. I heard Bill's footsteps clatter down the stairs and over his arm were some lovely snug-looking blankets. He draped one over Mr. Ollivander's lap, and a smaller one around his shoulders. He patted Bill's arm and muttered in a wheezy voice, "14 inches, Cedar, Dragon heartstring…"

"That's right, Mr. Ollivander," Bill smiled warmly, "You can have a nap here, I'm just getting your bedrooms ready."

_Crack!_

"Dobby… no… Dobby!"

Bill, Fleur, Dean and I jumped up and made out way to the garden. Mr. Ollivander was still dozing in his chair.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean, Bill, Fleur and me all rushed into the garden to see what was going on

Dean, Bill, Fleur and me all rushed into the garden to see what was going on. Ron was supporting a suffering Hermione inside, and Harry was bending over Dobby. Oh no. Dobby!

Dean spotted the half-conscious Griphook and carried him gently inside, Fleur and I followed. Bill stayed with Harry and started muttering words I couldn't hear. Dean laid the goblin on a sofa and I covered him with a spare blanket, and tried a _Rennervate _spell to see if it could get him slightly more awake. It didn't really work, but I think the elf dozed off along with Mr. Ollivander. I smiled fondly as Fleur found a coat and draped it over me. We both followed Dean outside.

"We should close his eyes." I commented, randomly.

Harry looked at me and nodded, he hadn't noticed us coming outside until now. Dean saw Harry taking off his shoes and socks and put them on Dobby's small feet. Dean fumbled around in his inside pocket and found a brown woollen hat and handed it to Harry, who put it on the elf's head. I bent down and gently placed my fingers on Dobby's eyelids, moving them down over his lifeless stare. His skin felt softer than human skin, despite the constant years of beating that I vaguely remembered Ginny telling me about Hermione campaigning about it three years ago. "There, he looks like he's sleeping, now."

After we'd buried Dobby, I made a short speech. I liked that elf. Well, he did save us…

Harry wanted a moment to himself, the rest of us made our way in, each muttering something encouraging, I patted Harry's back and was the last to go into the cottage. I think I heard a sob.

We all sat huddled in the living room, I'd shrugged off Fleur's coat, thanking her, and Dean and I were huddled awkwardly together underneath a blanket, both clutching the cups of lukewarm tea stiffly. Neither of us were paying attention to Bill's talking, something about Secret Keepers or something. I was still gripping a cup full of tea, whereas Dean sipped the last dregs of his and set the cup on the coffee table, his hands free. I thought nothing of it until he absent-mindedly twirled a curl of my hair and sweeped it behind my ear. I looked bemused but he just smiled at me.

"I think there's some Wrackspurt around here somewhere…" I yawned sleepily, closing my eyes…


	5. Chapter 5

"Luna, Luna…"

"Luna, Luna…"

My eyelids flickered open, sleepily, Dean was still beside me, holding a fresh mug of tea, which he pressed into my hands. "You fell asleep, come and sit at the table,"

We huddled around the table, sipping, although it burnt my throat. I acknowledged Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way pass us, apparently in deep discussion.

The next day was heaven. The one speck one silver lining in the grey cloud of the disaster the year had been. I could tell that Bill and Fleur wanted us out of the house, Dean and I volunteered to get some driftwood.

Well, we didn't do that 'till later.

We sat on the cliffside – away from the cottage. It was a little sandy, and there was lots of sea lavender around. I sniffed in the scents of it, and the salty sea, the air and the… rain?

Oh, it just had to happen, I thought to myself. But the rain didn't make things worse. Sure, it was cold, but refreshing. And the drops splattered onto my face, I smiled, I giggled.

"Come on," smiled Dean, extending his hand. I took it and he lifted me up. He pointed to a steep little path, which led down to the little cove and the sea. We ran – my skirt billowing, both of us grinning like mad. It was something out of a film, Dean described it later on. (He had to describe to me what a film was after saying that.) The path was slippery and sand, but we managed to get down to the ground in one piece, well, saying that, I tripped and fell into the sand, Dean falling on top of me. He said that part _wasn't _like in a film, because he almost squashed me. He rolled off, still chuckling away, our hands still clasped.

"You know, I always thought that you thought I was…odd," I said.

"Not you," he replied, "Just some of the things you said. If it wasn't for you, I would have had no partner in Dumbledore's Army."

This was true. Since Seamus didn't join for ages, and people ignored me, Dean was my partner.

"But what about Ginny, Ginny's my friend," this was totally unrelated to the conversation, but Dean still understood what I meant.

"She's with Harry now, and Harry's _my_ friend. I don't mind. Ginny never really liked me anyway."

I must have pulled a face.

"You're much more interesting, nicer, and a whole lot prettier, too,"

I squirmed, "No I'm not. Loads of boys liked Ginny."

"You are, Luna, look," he got up and pulled me up gently as well. Dean took his shoes and socks off, left them by a rock, and rolled his sandy trousers up. I slipped my shoes off, too, and Dean led me into the sea. I could just about make out our reflection. Dean clasped his fingers around mine and pointed at my watery reflection, "You're beautiful, see?"

I blushed a rosy red and laid my head on his shoulder.

The waves frothed around my feet, the tips of white touching my tattered skirt. I wanted to pause the picture there. Dean, and me standing in the sea, no one to hurt us. I half-expected some Death Eaters to come and spoil the scene. But they don't want us. I zoned out and stared beyond the sea until my eyes blurred. I almost missed it!

That's when Dean kissed me. It sounds cliché, but that's how it happened. My hair plastered to my face and his hair had gone frizzy. It was sweet, but long, but I felt comfortable. When we eventually stopped – and believe me – I didn't want to - I gasped.

"Maybe we should actually go and collect some firewood,"

My face flushed a million different shades of pink.

"Maybe we should," I replied.


End file.
